


The Price of Trust

by DearDiary



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, May/December Relationship, Mentions of a Suicide Attempt, Older Man/Younger Woman, though one-sided
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27052537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearDiary/pseuds/DearDiary
Summary: To help John Smith, a widower of two years and the pariah in the town, to regain his footing in the society, and to save his naive and flighty daughter from a disastrous relationships, Pete Tyler offers John Smith to marry Rose Tyler - and to get a second chance at love, starting a family and finding happiness.
Relationships: Ninth Doctor/Rose Tyler, The Doctor (Doctor Who)/Rose Tyler
Comments: 7
Kudos: 23





	1. Mister John Smith

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dear all!  
> I've got this idea and I feel like it needs to be written down into a fic with an actual plot - that's a first one for me, so bear with me if you like the dynamics of Rose Tyler and Ninth Doctor (a.k.a. John Smith). I am a great shipper of Nine/Rose, and I feel sad that I wasn't into "Doctor Who" before the pandemic.  
> We'll see how this story pans out in the end, I hope.  
> English is not my native language, so I ask for your forgiveness for all the mistakes to come.  
> Hope you enjoy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we get to know one of the main characters of the story, and what had happened before we started the narration.

_Two years ago..._

John just stood there, not able to believe the sight that opened before his very eyes. Three bloodied corpses were thrown carelessly on the marble floor, and there was no hope that any of the bodies could ever become living beings again. John knew the moment when his heart died without a possibility to be reanimated; he could regain in his mind easily when he became one of those corpses, the only difference being that he was still alive. 

But only on the outside. 

John heard the profanities and curses of the newly arrived townsfolk raining on him, burning his tortured soul like acid. It’s only natural that they thought that it was him who killed his wife and two infant sons; as they sure as hell heard the family arguing just two nights before. Lots of ugly words were spoken, many insults were thrown in a fiery rage, a stream of remorse fell from his wife’s lips as she recollected all the times he had failed their family, and the slap to John’s cheek was planted mercilessly after he dared to remind Lily of her unfaithfulness to him. It was his own fault, he realised, as the man promised both to himself and his now dead wife that the past was supposed to be left in the past, and it was low of him to recall Lily’s slip. He swore that he was willing to overcome the obstacle on their way to save their falling marriage, he consoled her and told that he was ready to forgive and forget; to put the past deeds of them both behind. 

Now it was too late. The dearest thing to his heart in the whole world was brutally taken away from him, and it was too late to make things right.

He couldn’t recollect what happened next for the love of God, he couldn’t. Life seemed to drag endlessly during the sleepless nights, and move fast-forward during the day. He supposed that at some point of that miserable period of his life Pete Tyler, his best friend, hired a high-class lawyer to protect John’s interest in court. He also remembered vaguely his other best friend, Jack Harkness, haul him from the stool in the bathroom and out of the noose the night John decided that life just wasn’t worth it anymore; he thought he'd imagined his housekeeper’s Donna anxious clucking over John. 

Call it God’s mercy, call it a miracle, call it John’s pure luck that he was Fortune’s favourite, but he was cleaned of any suspicions of his family’s murder after three sessions in the court. There were traces of a group of people and several scattered knick-knacks of others that definitely didn’t belong to John, and his employer stated officially that John was working at the moment his family was slaughtered. 

So, there he was. John Smith, 38, widower of two years, as he lost his wife at the age of 36. He lost his beloved Lily, his precious sons, his footing in society and a working place in just one night. The employer tried his best to let John stay and work as before, as the man knew John was innocent and wouldn’t be able to bring violence upon anyone weaker than him. Still, the townspeople hated on him with all their might, and pestered the poor employer with riots and fires at the factory, and refused to work under the same roof with the supposed slayer of his own family. 

John felt that he was ought to feel the unfairness of the whole situation, he thought that he was probably supposed to feel excluded and uncomfortable because of the people’s alienation and unadulterated disgust at his persona. Strangely enough, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He promised Pete, Jack, Donna and Doctor Martha that he would take better care of himself, and if he wouldn’t be able to find the strength to do so, he’ll ask for help, and wouldn’t try to off himself that same moment. 

John confessed that he thought about that a lot. He mulled over various ways to end things, starting from the classical hanging (“Been there, done that” reminded Jack) to a cliched bullet in the head (“Too messy” admitted Jack); from drinking the poison (“Too feminine” snorted Donna) to jumping off the cliff into the unruly depths of the sea (“Like in a tragic novel” mused Donna dreamily). 

The idea of becoming the protagonist of Donna’s well-loved romance novels was, perhaps, one of the two reasons John hadn’t topped himself yet. The other reason was the imminent wrath of those who were still his friends. He would bet that their fury would follow him wherever his worthless soul went. He honestly didn’t care if he went to Hell or Heaven or stayed in the Purgatory, or if he just vanished from the being without so much as a trace, John’s only dream was to meet his wife and his children one more time, to get a non-deserved closure; he longed for a chance to kiss his Lily, to hug Theo and Mark, to gravel on his knees in search of their forgiveness until it was granted upon him. 

He didn’t want forgiveness from God. No, John didn’t hate God, nor did he miss the Mass on Sundays when he was free from work, but it sort of felt...empty where his faith was once placed before. John knew the priest of the church would welcome his confession with open arms and wouldn’t dream of judging John’s fallout with religion; still, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. 

The townsfolk were glowering the first Sunday John arrived at the church after the murder of Lily and their sons. The people were smug in their assuredness that John would be stricken to death by the fury of Lord even before the man would step over the threshold of the house of God. Need you know the looks on their faces when said man went into the church safely, without so much as a scratch or a burn on his body? It seemed that the hatred turned down a notch that day, and though the citizens were still hostile and cold towards him, John would be forever grateful that the spitting his way had stopped. 

John tried working here and there, scratching along with little tasks from the townspeople who, although still found him unworthy of their kindness and forgiveness, needed his skills in repairing things. The usual gifts and sweets and flowers for his family stopped, and some even tried to pay him less for the done job, but still, John never stopped, and started saving for a shop of his own.

"There's more to life than just surviving" stated Doctor Martha during one of their sessions with John.

John did just that - he survived day after day. No good seemed to come from his fight, and no victory glimmered on the horizon.

But Lord works _in mysterious ways_ , and John's life was about to change _for the better_.


	2. Miss Rose Marion Tyler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we are introduced to a certain Rose Marion Tyler. Just what kind of girl is she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely people, nice to see you here at this time of the day.  
> I was really eager to introduce Rose, so here we go.  
> P. S. about the setting. It's kind of messed up, but I want it to be kind of historical, but with some things that come from the modern time, like therapists, for example. I will try to be vague about the setting, but I would like to keep it linked with the past, hence the society rules, the Church, the marriages and oh, well, whatever will work for the plot. It's nice to create your own kind of world, isn't it?  
> I'll stop my rambling and let you read.  
> Thanks for sticking with me!

Rose Marion Tyler, 17 at the time when the tragedy shattered John’s world, was both the crown on her parents’ heads and the reason for the appearance of early grey tresses in their hair. 

She was a lively and buoyant girl who had never needed a single thing her entire life. 

She was pretty, and her full lips were the reason of her peer girls’ jealousy. She was blonde by nature – and that was enough for any bloke to notice her looks. Rose's body was nicely filled in in all the right places and was pleasant to look at, and while it was a sign of perfect health in lower classes, it was frowned upon in the society she was supposed to spend her time in (and she received plenty of dirty stares from the stick-insect-like Trisha Delaney, _thank you very much. She'd rather have a full stomach than swoon from being hungry all the time_ ). 

To her father, Pete Tyler, she was the apple of his eye. God blessed his and Jackie’s marriage with only one child, and he was forever grateful for the girl that made his life brighter and worth fighting for. You see, Pete Tyler wasn’t always a respected and wealthy member of society, the road to his money and stable relationships with Jackie was far from easy, but it seemed that God had mercy over Pete upon Rose’s arrival, and his company’s stock were suddenly in demand. 

Just as was written before, _God works in mysterious ways_. 

Still, Rose Tyler. 

Her parents made sure she was well-educated (many teachers they hired shrugged their shoulders and told them that, perhaps, their daughter’s brain structure wasn’t allowing her to study nice and proper, like all ladies should; Pete all but threw them out of his estate after those words). She had a wonderful governess, miss Clara Oswin, and although Rose never acted disrespectful towards miss Clara, the blonde made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t interested. Miss Clara, being the perfect teacher that she was, made a deal with her tutee. A retelling of the chapter from each assigned book (Mathematics, History, English and Literature and “ _Oh, Lord, not French_ ”), and Miss Oswin would tell Rose a story not very suitable for the girls to hear, or take her on a walk into the park or near the river to entertain their fantasies and wild dreams. 

At first, Pete was outraged at Miss Clara’s so called “teaching techniques”. Thank God for Jackie telling him off and asking him to actually see their daughter. The usually moody and unhappy Rose all but blossomed under Miss Clara’s careful guidance, and Pete had to admit that Miss Oswin was a true treasure for their family. Jackie shook her finger at Pete and told him to value Miss Clara and offered to raise her payment so that the governess wouldn’t flee in search for better salary. 

Needless to say, Miss Clara was perfectly happy where she was, as she was tired as _hell_ of sitting in stuffy rooms teaching even stuffier schoolgirls. 

Rose Marion Tyler was a gulp of fresh air. And a surprisingly jeopardy-friendly person at that. 

She fell into the pond when she was barely 5, and, thankfully, got off only with a little scare (and a handful of swallowed water and, naturally, with her mother’s swoon later that day when the news arrived to the Tyler’s Estate). Rose was trapped in the fire the day the dancing hall was caught on fire because the caretaker was too drunk to notice the cinders fall out of the fireplace. The other girls and the teacher were fast enough to evacuate, but Rose was coaxing the youngest girl out of the wardrobe, and was too late to save herself. The firefighters were fast, though, and the trusty German Shepherd K9 led the men to the trapped girls. This resulted in Pete’s fury at the headmaster, and Rose was taken away from the classes in the dancing hall, and that was the end of her ballet career. 

Do you think that that was the end of Rose’s shenanigans? After that she took on horse-riding, and it nearly cost Jackie Tyler a heart attack. Pete was calmer as he knew just the perfect man to train Rose to horse-ride, and that man was Mr. Jack Harkness. The problems didn’t end, though, to Jackie Tyler’s endless grief: Rose was starting to grow, and was looking more like a _young woman_ rather than a _girl_ now, and Rose’s thoughts were straying further from horse-riding and reading demure novels and God-given books, and closer to the topic of love, attraction and good-looking chaps. 

Jack was stoic, and never allowed himself more than a genuine smile at the girl’s awkward attempts to attract his attention. Rose was huffing and puffing in insult each time Mr. Jack deterred her tries to impress him. She got tired after three months, but never quitted horse-riding, much to Jackie and their family physician's relief (“Exercise is important, Miss Rose”). 

Poor Pete and Jackie. No, really, Rose Marion Tyler was a lovely girl, but she could be a _handful_. 

Rose was a dreamer, but she rarely could be lazy. Her mother was strict on that particular topic, and although Pete would never allow Jackie and Rose work, Jackie insisted on Rose helping in the Church charities, sometimes found her families where there were kids to baby-sit, and taught Rose how to tend to a flower garden. “Remember, love, the flowers are always in need, as there are always the ladies to woo, wives to apologise to and weddings and anniversaries and balls, and, well, the funerals, too. You have to have something to keep you with enough money should anything go wrong in your life. Oh! Silly me, speaking about sad things. Never you mind, love, your mother will find you a decent man to marry. You won’t need a thing.” Jackie sighed and brushed the sweat off her brow with her hand. Then she smiled at her daughter and told her fondly “Now, love, put on the gloves and help me to put these roses into the soil, and then you are free to go with Miss Clara to draw the butterflies you were talking my ears off about this morning.” 

It was no secret that Rose Marion Tyler was a father’s girl. She loved her father dearly, and held him in the highest regard, and wanted to be worthy of him at least once – so she took upon one of the many feminine hobbies – drawing – and wasn’t half bad with it. Sometimes the misses in the Church bought her pictures to use as postcards, and that made Rose impossibly proud and kept her working on her skill. Also, Miss Clara always knew of places to take Rose where the sunsets were the brightest, and the birds were like out of the pictures from her favourite fairy tale book, and where it was nice to rest her soul and her body after spending too much time in a society full of stupid vain ladies and stifling rules. Rose was endlessly grateful that her parents never judged her for her penchant to avoid the people, and spent her weeks daydreaming and humming quietly to herself. She liked the world she created, that she lived in, the girl loved her parents and Miss Clara and the unyielding Mr. Jack, the days in the garden with her mother, and her mother's non-stopping conversations, the tea with her father when Pete was reading newspapers in the morning, the charity events, the watercolour pictures... 

Little did Rose Tyler know that her whole world was about to be shattered into a thousand pieces of stained glass, and her tender heart was about to know the torture of betrayal and the pain of growing up. 

But whatever happens, _happens for a reason_ and _for the best_ , and let us remember that the _darkest_ _hour_ comes just _before the dawn_. 


	3. Worlds collide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little glimpse into our characters' lives...and a first proper meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear all! Thank you for staying with the story. I'm sorry if my writing seems primitive, but I try my best. I already love the characters of John and Rose so much and I think of all the possible plot twists to put them through...anyway, here's the chapter as I feel unbelievably inspired to write these days. Must be Mercury in Retrograde.  
> Good night (morning, afternoon, evening) to you all <3

“How are you today, Mr. Smith? How did you do this month?” 

Doctor Martha Jones, 35, was a beautiful woman with a gift of healing humans’ souls. She was a friend of Jackie’s as the women spent much time together because Mrs. Tyler always had something to lament about. Her marriage with Pete, the strange behaviour of Rose, the lady in the neighbouring estate who was giving her dirty looks, the price of the flower seeds and tulip bulbs; seriously, the woman _could_ talk. And although Miss Martha protected her inner peace and her friendship with Jackie by tuning out the unimportant bits of information, she still managed to help the older woman with wise words (or sometimes just by being there, by listening. Doctor Martha knew like no other that sometimes the actual psychological therapy was not required, frequently people just needed to be heard). Miss Martha worked hard to become who she was, and although she admitted she wouldn’t get this far without Mr. and Mrs. Tyler’s help, the woman also realised that she had all the reasons to be proud of herself and her brilliant career. 

John Smith was hauled in half-drunken state to Miss Martha’s office by the very concerned Pete and Jack the night John decided to end things. If Doctor Martha was unhappy at the abrupt way of things, she hadn’t allowed it to show on her face. The poor drunken fellow was given a freshly-brewed cup of coffee and was situated on the beige sofa near the wall. It was clear by the look on his face that he loathed the idea of therapy, but John also knew that he only had two choices: to stay in the bloody office forever (and inconvenience the woman who wasn’t to blame for the whole predicament in his life) or to face his demons and get over himself (Jack and Pete would make sure he did just that). Giving Doctor Martha’s office a once-over, and not making any real eye-contact in his first-time therapy session, John reluctantly shared the thoughts that plagued him since his family’s unforeseen departure. Nothing too personal, he only listed the reasons he thought this world wasn’t in need of him anymore. 

And so, the journey to John’s path towards healing began. Quite the journey, if you ask him. Two years ago, their sessions with Doctor Martha happened once a week, after six months and another unsuccessful try to be killed by a bunch of pissed thugs in a bar, their meetings were held twice a week. These days, the sessions took place once a month, and, much to John’s dismay, he discovered that he'd found a friend in Miss Martha. Their communication consisted of them mostly bickering, John’s speaking and revealing things, and Martha’s shrewd advice and fresh view on things. 

“Just peachy, Doctor Jones. I found three new ways to make Jimmy Stone and his gang afraid of me, thank you very much. I fixed two machines, oiled a dozen hinged doors, cut the lattice to save a cat that got stuck in the basement...same old, same old.” 

“I see. You are your usual sunny self. Is there anything to bother you or your thoughts? Have you tried the exercise I recommended to improve your social skills?” 

Ah. That. John hated this topic with a burning passion, a topic of him being a widower. Jackie Tyler was eating his brain out with a dessert spoon each time he visited the Tyler’s Estate. “You are still young and handsome, John. Well, if we forget the whole ears business. Seriously, would it kill you to wear your hair a little longer? You’ve got a nice pair of working hands, and Pete would vouch for you any time. There’s gotta be some warmth in that dusty heart of yours, I hope. What do you say, Pete?” 

Pete would try to hide his smile, amused by his wife’s quirks, but would secretly agree with her. The problem was, though, that while a very small number of people in their society knew the real John and accepted him in their company and their homes, plenty of people still considered him evil incarnate. Stories of him hiring a killer to get rid of the wife that he got tired of were shared, some even were spinning the yarn of him bribing the judges to escape the righteous and well-deserved imprisonment, and no one seemed to care that the official reports stated the John Smith was innocent. Other idle speakers scorched him for not protecting what was entrusted to him, others blamed his dirty deeds for the massacre of the children and Lily. Even if John hadn’t killed the sweet Lily and the boys himself, he might as well have pulled the trigger when he got himself involved with the town’s kind of drug mafia. No one messed with the group that operated in the dark alleyways near the pubs, corrupting the youth and ruining families. 

Obviously, every quaint town on Earth needed the scapegoat, and the town of Powell found the perfect candidate for that job. John didn’t mind the assigned position that much after the initial hatred and outrage died down a little. People would still give him foul looks, but the dirt-throwing at his windows stopped along with the trash on the porch of his humble house. John suspected that it had something to do with the Tyler’s family, as Pete was chosen as the town’s mayor some time into the course of their friendship – and no one wanted to cross the paths with the mayor’s words. Nevertheless, Pete and Jackie made sure that John was constantly seen in their society, and things went a little better from there on. John had his job, had savings and a bunch of trusty friends to share the highs and lows of his life with; the only thing he still felt was missing was a sense of belonging. But he never hoped that void in his soul could be filled, so John lived his life day after day doing his best. 

*** 

The first time John and Rose’s paths crossed for real; the sparks flew around them. 

The sparks of hatred, that is. The sparks of dislike and distrust, all from Rose’s side. 

Rose was planning her actions carefully for a whole week. Find the most close-fitting dress – check. Roam her mother’s jewellery box in search of something shiny to put in her ears and on her collarbone – check. Ask Shareen to bring her older sister’s make up – check. Moan and whine the whole evening to her parents about the headache (and whispering conspiratorially to Jackie that it was probably because her monthlies were about to show up – as it was no secret Rose suffered drastically each time the whole business started – and her mother worryingly sent her away with a heating pad and a sleeping pill to turn in for the night) - check. Rose swore she could almost taste the freshness of freedom she was about to experience in the dancing hall, she was giddy with excitement at the prospect of swaying to the music in the crowd with the boy who asked her out while Rose and Jackie visited the Mayor’s Office. 

Jimmy bleeding Stone! The coolest bloke in the town, even cooler than Mr. Jack! Blonde curly hair, the bluest eyes one could only wish for, the most charming smile in the whole Powell, and he was looking for her company! 

Rose had to admit, although with hesitation, that she was also scared. There was a slight trembling in her limbs as she was fixing her attire and checking her reflection in her vanity for any signs of imperfection. She was kind of a goody-two-shoes, that was no secret, and her reputation preceded her. But Rose was so sick and tired of always spending time either with her parents or Miss Clara or with her closest mate Shareen (under their governesses’ hawk-like stares, of course). Sometimes, while the blonde girl was in her natural state of day-dreaming, she thought wistfully what it would feel like not to come from the family of the Mayor, and if she were just a girl from a middle or lower class. Money would be tight, that’s for sure, and she’d had to work like a horse, but what she could get in return...the boys and girls from the poorer districts could dance all night long, the girls were allowed to drink beer and they could swear all they wanted, they could snog and hug shamelessly, and no one would judge them or tell them off. They were free to roam the streets and the forest and the valleys without supervision, and no scandals were erupting if those girls arrived home an hour later that was appointed. Oh, what an adventure... 

Rose shook her head, and the veil of her fantasies lifted. Alright. Time to go. 

She cracked the door to her room open and faked the most tired and sleepy voice she could muster to say goodnight to her parents. Everything was neat. She was ready. 

Rose quietly crept out of the window, grateful that her bedroom was on the second floor of their estate, and not on the third, and that a simple knot of sheets was enough to withstand the weight of her body. Poor Shareen. Her bedroom was on the third floor, and it would be a tricky thing to climb down the brick wall in the high-heeled shoes Shareen was a fan of. “Well”, mused Rose, “that was entirely Shareen’s problem”. The most important thing was not to be late to meet Jimmy, and not to mess her hairstyle too much. 

Rose stepped on the ground without much grace, but managed doing so without twisting her ankle. What a lucky night! The starts were glimmering and winking at her, inviting to explore the night wonders of the rarely-sleeping town, and the girl swore her blood was singing in anticipation of a good time (and, hopefully, a good kiss). 

She sneaked past the main gate, ducking under the living room windows where her parents were situated, talking languidly with glasses of wine in their hands. 

The clock stroke 11. Marvellous. Rose had the whole 15 minutes to get to the meeting point with Jimmy and Shareen. She steered herself towards the gates...

...until someone took her by the arm and dragged into the streetlights of her house’s lane. Rose screamed involuntary, without doubt alerting her parents, and raised her eyes to the intruder of her perfect escape plan. 

“Ah”, thought Rose bitterly, “Mister John Smith.” Down the drain went her adventures...and any warm feelings she harboured towards the man. 

She heard the door of her house open, and her mother’s worried wails were closer to them with each passing second. 

“I am dead”, concluded Rose sourly, and tried to wrench out of John’s grip. 

“Rose Marion Tyler, what is the meaning of all this?!” 

So much for a night promenade... 


	4. Ships in the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family fight. A quiet thought. An interesting idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? Thank you for your time while reading the story! I sincerely hope that each and every one of you is well and happy these days.  
> Anyway, here's the chapter. Enjoy!

“I just don’t understand why you would try and do something stupid like that? Didn’t you think about your father? About our family’s reputation? Aren’t you scared of what can happen to you!” Rose swears she’s been standing glued to one place in the Tyler’s living room forever. Twice. Sometimes it seemed that Jackie’s ire quieted down a little, then it blasted with full force again. On and on and on about what could happen to Rose. And what could have happened to Jackie if that nasty something happened to her daughter. And Pete! What of his mayor’s position? 

Seriously, though, Jackie’s been frying her brain for at least half an hour now, and Rose felt drained despite teeming with energy just an hour ago. She also felt ashamed, now that she thought about her father for a minute. 

Her father, who was frowning slightly, nursing a glass of whiskey in his hands. He hadn’t uttered a word since he realised clear that Rose was unharmed and safe in John’s arms – and hadn’t spared her a fleeting glance. It unnerved her, and she felt a tight ball of guilt taking a place in her stomach. 

Rose didn’t mean to make her father sad. Or ashamed of her actions. She just wanted...to have some fun. Like the girls from the factory did. 

Obviously, people frowned upon the simple pleasure of walking in the night. Or dancing. Or getting poshed up and running away to a dance hall with a boy. 

Rose felt like screaming. Or better, throwing a huge tantrum. It was so unfair! Shareen’s parents allowed their daughter a lot of liberties, and they were from the same bloody society! Why couldn’t Pete and Jackie indulge Rose’s wishes just a bit? But she needed to be calm and collected so as not to look too stupid in front of the audience. She puffed her cheeks, then let the air out slowly; eyes half-closed. The blonde almost began her teary admission to just wanting some good time when she saw John looking at her from his position by the fireplace. 

That bastard! He had the audacity to smirk while she was being told off and humiliated like a child! 

“Mum, stop it already! What is he doing here, anyway? You wanna talk about it? Then talk without the strangers in the room!” 

Silence filled the room immediately. The only things that Rose heard were the maddening beating of her heart and the gentle cracking of the fire. She saw her father’s face darken visibly, and gulped, suddenly afraid of his reaction. She noticed his fingers curling around the glass forcibly, and she watched, almost hypnotized, as the amber liquid moved restlessly, licking the walls of the glass. Pete Tyler, frowned brows and heavy silence – never a good omen. Rose always felt a little off every time her father was outraged, whether it was related to job or some family matters. She only knew her father’s anger at her when she stole a lipstick from a shop when Jackie refused to buy it for her – and that time Pete was livid, and made her apologise to the shop owner, then didn’t speak to her for three days. That was when she was thirteen. The next time it happened when Rose snuck out of the Mass and stumbled upon a bunch of matrons who were late to the Church because there was a lot of snow on the roads. The old chickens just had to cluck loud enough about “poor Rose being lost”, but Pete and Jackie knew Rose’s intentions better – because a couple of blocks away Mr. Jack found a certain Shareen waiting for Rose with two cups of coffee (and a bottle of rum Shareen stole from her father’s cabinet – they wanted to try the Irish coffee recipe). 

This was worse. With every passing minute after being caught by Mr. Smith, Rose knew she was in a bad place. She’ll have to grovel to her mother for at least a week, and she was afraid of what it’ll take to make her father forgive her outburst (and a failed escape attempt). Pete Tyler valued their family’s reputation and never tolerated any harshness and disrespect towards John Smith, and she fell further from her father’s graces by addressing John rudely. 

Truth be told, Rose never thought too much about Mr. Smith. He was her father’s friend, older than Jack, a little younger than Pete himself. She didn’t have time to really acknowledge his presence in their house (which happened quite regularly), because there was something to study, somewhere to go, someone to visit politely. She wasn’t allowed to stay with the “grown-ups” (for God’s sake, she was 19!), so she knew little of his character apart from what her parents told her. Rose spent the majority of her life seeing John as a family friend, and never assumed he was to blame for what happened to his wife and children. She shuddered inside. Rose remembered the shell of a man John was during the first year after the murder, and felt deep compassion for the widower. She never went too far trying to understand why people thought him guilty, she only knew he had some kind of disagreement with his spouse. 

That’s it. The two of them, Rose Tyler and John Smith, were like the proverbial ships in the night, passing each other briefly every time John stepped into her father’s house. Nothing more than a pleasant “Hello”, a “Goodbye” with a quick smile, and a bunch of flowers and chocolates for her birthday, delivered to her by Miss Clara. That’s who he was – until he decided to ruin her genius plan and catch her running away into the night. 

And then the unspeakable happened. 

Inspired by her lamenting about his presence in the family matter, John told that he saw Mr. Jimmy Stone waiting by the dance hall with a single rose in his hands. 

A rose...for Rose. 

The girl felt faint all of a sudden. Jesus Christ, this was her demise. Her father would kill her. The only thing her father hated more than her acting rude and disrespectful? 

Blokes. 

Especially the ones who were circling with the likes of Jimmy. 

She found his bad boy thing going on attractive; Pete dreamed of putting him into custody for stealing and distributing the drugs among the poorer people (although Rose never knew that, it was something Pete and John were working on privately). 

Rose knew the moment her father lost the fight with his temper. 

The glass slammed into the polished surface of the table, the liquid sloshing out of it. 

Pete’s eyes were darker than she’s ever seen them. His voice was almost inaudible, and she felt the goosebumps rise on her skin when her father gritted through his teeth “Rose, go to your room”. When she was about to protest, he repeated the same words as quietly as before. Rose looked up to her mother fearfully, and felt panic intensify when she saw how pale Jackie’s face looked in the light of the flame. After a few moments of the stillness in the room Pete slammed the hand on the table, and Rose fled the company of her parents' in fright. Something didn’t seem right. It wasn’t about her insulting John’s presence. It wasn’t about her sneaking away. Whatever that was, Rose didn’t want to know. She only wanted to never see the disappointed and angry look on her father’s face aimed towards her ever again. 

*** 

The three adults watched the girl disappear into the hallway with unease. John felt the sting of remorse; he absolutely hadn’t needed to rile the girl up by telling about Jimmy in front of them all. He considered apologising to Rose after the dust settled, because he’d seen how disturbed the girl was by what happened upon Pete realising whom she was seeing. 

Nevertheless, he couldn’t keep in a secret, either. This was his best friends’ daughter, for crying out loud, and he’d be lying if he told that he didn’t care for Rose’s safety and well-being. 

She was a sweet girl, she was. A headstrong lady, and had a temper far too fiery for his liking, but she was brimming with life energy, and everyone around her felt drawn into her presence, wishing to bask in her light, in her warmth. Rose was young, Rose was healthy and full of dreams, she wasn’t arrogant like the girls from her society were, she was naturally curious and rebellious. John thought ruefully that not everyone would want Rose for who she really was. To many she’d be a troubled wife, to others she’d be just an opportunity to rise higher in community by marrying the mayor’s daughter. He couldn’t decide what was a lesser evil – her breaking her character with a husband who’ll try to make her docile and manageable, or her slowly withering into a ghost of a girl she was before marriage because she wasn’t loved for her personality. 

John thought it was a shame such a bright and lively creature should be tamed and stripped of her hopes and dreams. 

But he didn’t wish her to end with the likes of Stone, too. Never. 

John considered if it was right of Jackie and Pete to give Rose so much freedom, to indulge her penchant to dreaming and staying away from people. He mentally slapped himself later; he’d never want his own children to be unhappy and bound by the society’s stupid rules and traditions. Of course, she deserved the freedom to be herself, and she deserved all the happiness in the world – just like any person did. 

Well, not John, naturally. He’s had his share of better days. It was simply serving his term in this world now, with nothing nice to hope for. Although...maybe, just maybe, God would indulge him with one simple pleasure – a business of his own. A nice hotel to run all by himself, but he didn’t know if anyone would be willing to help his business flourish – apart from Pete and Jack, that is. 

He rubbed his hands on his face. He felt bone-tired, and he didn’t know a thing in this world anymore for sure. 

The only thing John knew was that he didn’t envy Pete and Jackie. Whomever was to marry Rose, wouldn’t be enough for the girl’s joy and well-being. 

What a waste of a beautiful soul... 

*** 

Jackie was sitting in her husband’s lap, gently playing with his hair. Pete was in one of those moods when he didn’t want to talk, when he needed time to concentrate and reflect on the events of the day. She was ready to provide quiet comfort and support; she also needed to plead for Pete not to act too rash because of Rose’s capricious behaviour. The girl would be the death of her, Jackie thought, but she didn’t wish to part with her beloved daughter sooner than necessary, but Rose’s tricks were harder to ignore with each passing month. 

Jackie trusted Pete to make the right decision. He could be emotional, he could be precarious with his inventions and far too imaginative in his ideas, but he’d never let anything bad or unpleasant happen to his Rose. He’ll think of something, and Jackie won’t have to separate with her lovely daughter. 

*** 

The Tylers never told Rose of their feud with the Stone family that went upscale after Pete’s taking up the mayor’s chair and starting the war against the substance in the streets. The stakes were higher now that Jimmy encroached on the dearest person to them – their daughter. That was bad, too bad – and Rose was all too ready to fall for his game. Jackie suspected that if they tried to dissuade their daughter from pursuing the relationships with Jimmy after today, she’d never believe them. To tell her about the drugs would be too dangerous and risky, she was mercurial these days, it seemed even more unstable in her emotions and moods because of her parents’ hyper care. 

Staying with Miss Clara won’t work anymore, Rose was too old for a governess now. Something needed to be done soon. Something to tame Rose a little, to provide her comfort, to let her start a life of her own she desired so much. 

Now if only there was a man whom Pete could be able to trust his cherished daughter to... 

An interesting thought occurred to Mr. Tyler that evening. He needed to speak with Jackie about it. God knows she won’t agree right away. 


	5. The road to Hell...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete shares his ideas with Jackie.  
> We learn a little of Donna's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, wonderful people!  
> Thank you again for reading and reviewing.  
> This chapter was somewhat hard to write, and I don't know what was the reason for that. Maybe I'm tired of working without weekends, maybe it's the gloomy weather, maybe it's because this chapter is a filler chapter in some way.  
> Anyway, here it is, enjoy!

“No! Are you out of your mind, Pete? What you suggest is...is...preposterous! Just wrong! How in the world did you even come up with that? I will _not_ give my consent to that. Over my dead body!” 

Jackie Tyler was livid. To have her hopes of her daughter’s rescue from Jimmy Stone’s pursue crushed by her husband’s delirious idea to marry her off – and to whom! 

The woman was pacing in front of the fireplace, looking at the clock in desperation. Why, oh why did her daughter have to grow up so fast? Why couldn’t she stay out of trouble? Why couldn’t she and Pete have their beloved child stay with them? 

Jackie wrung her arms anxiously, feeling restlessness in her mind. It couldn’t be right to agree to what her husband offered. Sure, Pete’s her husband of 20 years and all, and she trusted him with everything that she had, and she knew he’ll never do a thing to upset her or Rose. Still, she’d be damned if she let anyone treat her Rose unfairly. 

And this was the _definition_ of _unfair_. 

“Now, Jacks, you are speaking from your emotions. Come, sit down for a moment.” Pete put his hands around his distraught wife and spoke to her in a calming manner. “You know it’s not the worst scenario.” He noticed Jackie stubbornly shaking her head, poised to defy his arguments. “Here, have some whiskey” he offered her his glass, pouring some more amber liquid into it. “You know I’m right. He won’t ever hurt her. He won’t stand in her way of living. Our Rose won’t have to change – she'll stay in character!” Pete smiled tenderly, looking down at his wife’s worried face. “Just imagine, Jacks, your Rose will always be nearby, he won’t prevent her from visiting you – us – as much as she wishes. And he lives close to our estate, he won’t change locations – he _hates_ change! You know him as good as I know him, love, and he won’t take Rose away. You and I will be able to look after her, too. And he will look after her, of that I’m sure.” After saying these words to soothe his spouse’s nerves, he murmured resolutely “I just have to convince him to agree”. 

*** 

If anyone asked Miss Donna Noble of how she ended up as John Smith’s housekeeper, she would smile. And smack John half-heartedly on his head if he were nearby, too. 

Although she was sure she owed her life to the stupid man. 

For he, the nefarious John Smith, was the one who barged into the closed door when he heard a woman cry in fear. John was the one to react when no one around seemed to notice; and no one could _not_ bloody notice the yelling and shattering of the furniture and glass, the constant stream of swearing as Donna refused to marry Lance after she’d learned of his playing around the neighbourhood days before their wedding. 

The worst thing about the state of affairs? 

Her parents refused to take her in lest she married the damned man. Donna felt that they probably had the right to feel this way, after all, she wasn’t _that_ young anymore, and it’s not like she had a line of grooms-to-be waiting for her to dump Lance. Still, the redhead experienced the unmistakable twist of betrayal stinging her soul, the icy-cold fingers of abandonment and not belonging to anyone in the whole wide world made her feel empty inside. 

But they were talking about John. 

So, there he was, ~~a~~ ~~knight on a white horse~~ a giant in a black leather jacket, throwing furious Lance off her, stopping the flood of profanities at Donna’s stupidity and stubbornness and ungratefulness. 

During the weeks to come Lance was parading a purple shiner around his left eye, Donna’s parents were surreptitiously asking around the neighbourhood if they knew at least anything about Donna, and the said woman was then employed as John and Lily Smith’s housekeeper (because, though Lily was a little ashamed to admit, she couldn’t cope with running the house and raising two boys with a year’s difference between them). 

The funniest thing that happened afterwards? 

Lily was _jealous_ of John. The word got out and the townsfolk twisted their tales that Mr. Smith appeared to lose interest in Lily (women tend to look not their best after giving birth, after all, and Lily definitely lost her gloss after giving birth twice in two years, they would add), and that Donna was more than just a charity case – that Ms. Noble was a new mistress-to-be in the Smiths household. 

The first time Donna and John heard of the rumours? 

They laughed their heads off. Donna admitted feeling grateful for his timely rescue and added that there was no way in hell she’d be interested in such big ears (like in that children’s story about the baby elephant with huge ears who could fly!) Of course, later Ms. Noble apologised profusely as she meant no ill intentions to insult Mrs. Lily’s taste in men. 

It’s just that Donna’s tastes were different. Not that she ever stood a chance again. 

(John would roll his eyes and tell her that it wasn’t over yet. And he’d be glad to be the one to marry her off in a church one day. Preferably soon, as he said that he was tired of her constant prattling and messing with his life). 

They both knew that the banter was good-natured, and they loved each other like siblings would (and they would always argue about who was playing the role of the eldest sibling). 

*** 

“Well, how about...how about you ask Jack? Huh? He’s younger, his moods would suit Rose’s lively character, and they would be up to any mischief in no time – come on, Pete, you know she’d been fancying him _for ages_!” 

Pete looked up at his wife in astonishment. She was grasping at straws, and he could understand why, but these words sounded almost like a joke. 

“Jacks, we’re talking _Jack_. And while I love the knave dearly, I wouldn’t want him near our daughter in a thousand years. He bedded half the bloody town, love. And while I remember you at the tender age of twenty-one, I can’t let Jack be the one to take our Rose on _that adventure_. 

And my, what an adventure that was for the newly-wedded Mr. And Mrs. Pete and Jackie Tyler. Jackie felt her ears burning like on fire just thinking about those days of the honeymoon. No, no, Jack wouldn’t do, Mrs. Tyler saw that at the moment. It would be unfair to ask him to leave his ways in life (and to leave the town without its renowned Lothario). 

“I’m not mad, Jacks. Think about it. She’s 19, she’s bound to explode with the energy we’ve been trying to temper down all these years...remember what you and I did when you were a little older, at 21?” Jackie’s cheeks reddened deeper with the memories; for every surface in their house was christened with their love-making in the long months after the honeymoon. God, they were so young and full of passion! No wonder Rose was going mad, trying to extinguish the wants of her heart and body, if she was her mother’s daughter at least by half. 

“Alright, alright” the woman surrendered. “I’m not saying yes – mind you! - but I’ll be damned if I let that scum of a Jimmy boy near my Rose again. Just promise me this, Pete. You’ll still talk to Jack. Now, don’t interrupt me” she put a well-manicured hand up in the air “I think we need at least to try to find her a match she’d consider attractive. You know her, Pete, she’s all about pretty boys. Jack is pretty, John...” Jackie lapsed, thinking it would be heartless to comment on her husband’s best friend’s appearance. “Just talk to Jack, ‘s all I’m asking, and if he says no, the rest is up to you, I promise.” 

They fell into a comfortable silence, sitting side by side, enjoying the peace while it lasted. 

And my, weren’t those the last peaceful days for quite a while. 


	6. ...is paved with good intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose has her suspicions.  
> The chaotic duo of Donna and Jack are ready to play match-makers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter although I have like a thousand things to do, and a stack of pupils' homework is glaring at me from my table. Still, no regrets.  
> The homework will stay no matter what, the inspiration, however, is quite a sneaky thing to catch.  
> I realise that you would prefer chapters to be longer, but I can't seem to be able to write the long ones, 1000-1500 words is my maximum, it seems. And anyway, every day I wake up with new ideas, and it's easier to twist and shape the plot to my liking if the chapters are in small chunks.  
> My God, I'm such a blabberer.  
> Much love! Enjoy.

Jack brushed away the tears of glee and threw his head up, roaring with laughter once again. 

Pete didn’t share his friend’s obvious amusement. 

“Christ” Jack rattled shakily. “Please, send Jackie my best wishes and many thanks for trusting me with Rose, but it’s a no from me, Pete. She’s a sweet babe, but I can’t see her in that light. She’s like a kid sister I’ve never had.” 

Pete sighed, and relief flooded his body. His rigid posture sagged, and he patted his friend’s shoulder in gratitude. 

“Thanks, Jack. I honestly hoped you’d say no. But Jackie is so...so stubborn sometimes. Made me promise I’d try and persuade you to be the one to marry Rose.” The father of said girl stood tall once again and decided to share his plans with one of his two best friends. 

*** 

“Now that’s what I call a good thinking. You get Rose out of Stone’s hands and you give John another chance at living happily with a new business of his. John’s been breathing with the idea of a hotel of his own, you know, but he always clammed up when I tried to persuade him to ask for your help. It’s not like you would have said no, isn’t it? It’s just that...” Jack stopped his loud train of thought abruptly. 

“It’s just...what?” Pete asked uneasily. 

“I reckon Rose won’t be happy with the way of things.” 

“Shut up” Pete groaned pitifully. “Don’t I know that – she's gonna hate me. I’ll probably won’t be her favourite person in the world anymore. Imagine how it’ll wreck her bond with Jackie!” 

Jack smiled supportively and slung one hand over Pete’s shoulders in a friendly gesture. “It’ll be fine, though. She’ll understand it one day. And that day will be the day when we’ll get rid of the trash that Jimmy and his gang is.” 

Jack wanted to add that the explosive duo of Rose’s youth and John’s suppressed love and longing to be loved would made them both quite satisfied both mentally and physically. Jack had a sort of hunch when it came to match-making, and those two would make a fine match. 

He thought better of it and decided not to scar Pete’s father’s heart. God knows the whole ordeal’s been a bumpy ride for him. 

*** 

Rose was lying in the meadow on a chequered blanket watching the colours swish and mesh in the sunrays. The bizarre shapes the kaleidoscope provided her were much brighter in the sun, and the whimsical dance of the stained-like-glass made her soul fill with warmth and a slight longing to be able to touch those colourful patterns. 

Said kaleidoscope was a gift from the Smiths family from oh so long ago. From the time when the boys would prance into the Tyler’s estate bearing sweets and trinkets for young Rose, from when Lily would give her kiss on the cheek and a heart-felt “Happy Birthday!” with a tender smile. And while Rose grew out of the dolls and toys and grew into feminine dresses and flirtatious smiles, she never grew up for real. 

It seemed that the world around her didn’t want that, what with her parents’ care. 

So, the kaleidoscope stayed with her, the well-loved and trusty friend that it was. The symbol of her never-ending childhood, if you wish. 

Rose wondered then if there were colours in this world that she never knew of. Surely, the Earth was big enough to host more than the ones the blonde learnt of in her lifetime. 

Were they even alone in the Universe...Miss Clara told her all about planets and constellations, galaxies and supernovas, black holes and satellites. Oh, to be there, to visit the space, to see with her own eyes if they are indeed the only ones in the whole of creation... 

Rose’s daydreaming was interrupted by her mother’s tentative question. 

“What is going on in that head of yours, sweetheart?” 

Suspicious. 

The two weeks after her row with her parents were so strange, Rose couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Why wasn’t her dad angry? Why wasn’t he sulking at her impolite attitude towards John? Why was her mother so kind all of a sudden, catering to her every wish and caprice? 

Like today, when Jackie insisted on them taking a day-off from gardening and going "somewhere lovely" to have "girls' time". Just them two, Rose and Jackie.

And Miss Clara would have a day-off to spend on a date with a certain Mr. Danny Pink (not that Miss Clara would confess that she fancied the man).

So why in the world did Rose feel like there was a storm brimming on the edges of her small little world? 

Rose realised she was silent for too long, and answered her mother before the woman assumed that Rose was ignoring her. 

“I was thinking about the colours, mum. D’ya think there are some that we don’t know of, yet?” 

Jackie rolled her eyes, ruffling Rose’s blonde curls affectionately. “Some nutter you are, love. I wish I’d never read the stories about that girl who fell into the Adventureland...” 

“Wonderland, mum. Her name was Alice.” The girl supplied with a tired smile. 

Jackie waved her hands dismissively before stroking her daughter’s blonde tresses, humming quietly. “Still, I think it’s my fault you turned out to be quaint; not that it makes me and dad love you any less, you know that, sweetheart, don’t you?” 

Rose turned her head to look at her mother’s face worriedly. “Mum, what’s the matter? You’ve been the quaint one past couple of weeks, and I can tell dad is up to something.” The girl swallowed nervously, “Is it because I messed big time with Mr. John and Jimmy, mum? Am I in trouble?” 

Jackie couldn’t contain her overflowing emotions any longer, so she moved closer and hugged her daughter warmly, running her hands up and down Rose’s back, enjoying the quiet moments of love and harmony in their relationship. That way the mother could hide the tears that were gathering in her eyes, and conceal the sense of disquiet in her soul. 

Somehow, in the hearts of her heart, Rose too realised that these were the last anxiety-free moments to cherish with her beloved mother. 

Still, she felt the static of the upcoming storm crawl up her skin. 

*** 

Pete summoned all resolution and the cold facts that he was able to provide, and tried to gather enough courage not to hide the reason for his visit to John’s house. He knew Donna would be on his side; it’s been days since his talk with Jack, and the younger man promised to enlighten the housekeeper on Pete’s plan. And although Donna felt sorry for Rose’s tender heart and John’s poor nerves after their worlds collided, she knew it would be for the best. 

These two needed to care and to be cared for, and Donna was sure as hell they’d be perfect to provide each other with the much-needed comfort. 

The only problem? 

The road to a happy marriage that was arranged without both parties’ consent would be a little jerky. Uneven. Filled with sticks and stones and piles of rubbish and seas of puddles. 

Still, Donna wasn’t the one to give up easily. The stupid man needed her help, and she’d try her best to save him from bleak and depressed life (much like the one John saved her from all those years ago). 

And Rose, bless her, would need some guidance into married life and a shoulder to cry on after the plans on marrying them two were announced. 

*** 

“Here goes nothing” thought Pete uneasily. “Time to start the show” - and rang a bell on John Smith’s door, clutching the documents in his hands. 


End file.
